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��BOOK VII.
Twixt Ebal and Garizim, sacred mounts, With sylvan bowers and shades the midst, gardens Luxuriant in spices, myrrh, and balm, The vale of Sichem lowly lies conceal'd; Where all the Patriarchs serenely sleep, In rock hewn tombs, enduring as the hills, And pious pilgrims annual resort, To mourn the dust of their departed sires. Now Jacob's well was there ; and fervid noon, With rays direct, fell sorely on his head, A.S near its brink, the Saviour, wearied sat. Hard by stood Sichar, where plantations broad, Of olives, yearly shed their snowy flowers, Their silver leaves spread, and mature their fruit. Fruit, which on Olivet first grew, Whence Noe's faithful dove her token brought, Of the assuaging flood. Hence Lucia came, Intent to draw water from out the well. Custom by Rachel sanctified, and through The east with due esteem observed. Of her The Master courteous ask'd to drink. So he, Whom Abram sent, of Bathuel's daughter ask'd,
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